


Variable Distance

by kereia



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Female Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13444161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/pseuds/kereia
Summary: Relationships change and shift over time. Some grow closer and some drift apart, some you need to hold on to and some you need to let go.





	Variable Distance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FannyT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FannyT/gifts).



 

 

Clary was finishing up her latest sketch, when the rapid staccato of Isabelle's stilettos broke her concentration. The beat of her stride sounded angry. Setting her drawing aside, Clary scooted to the edge of her bed. Just as her feet hit the floor, a door was opened in the hallway and slammed shut a second later.

The ensuing silence reverberated through the air.

"Are you alright?" Clary asked a minute later, when Isabelle opened that same door to her tentative knock.

Isabelle turned away and pulled one of her ear clips off. "Of course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Leaving the door open, she made her way to the bed and shimmied out of her leather pants. Her stilettos lay discarded in front of the mirror.

Stepping into the room, Clary crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. She knew Isabelle too well to be fooled by her dismissive manner. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking."

Isabelle met her gaze and held it in challenge for a moment, but confronted with Clary's calm expectation, her shoulders slumped.

 _Gotcha_ , Clary thought.

"It's nothing serious," she deflected half-heartedly as she reached for a stylish pair of sweats. "My mother and I had a disagreement. It's not important."

"What about?"

Slipping into her pants, Isabelle rolled her eyes and gathered her hair at her neck. "You know... the usual. The way I dress. Who I date. My lack of respect. My attention span. My inadequacies as a diplomat." She twisted her hair into a ponytail, pulling the strands back hard enough to make Clary wince. "Basically my complete and utter lack of intelligence and dedication," she continued as she started to pace the room. Agitation was rolling off her in waves, the easy-going confidence that was such an intrinsic part of her cracking along the seams.

Clary stepped in front of her and held up her hands. "Okay, I'm sure she didn't say it _like that_."

"She _never_ says it like that, but that's what she means."

Shaking her head, Clary put her hand comfortingly on Isabelle's shoulder. "Come on, that's crazy. Your mother loves you."

Isabelle's face conveyed her scepticism far more eloquently than words ever could. "You don't know her like I do. I thought we were doing better. That we were finally getting closer, but I just feel as if I can never do anything right. Nothing is ever good enough."

Isabelle straightened and tried to wave Clary off, obviously embarrassed that she had revealed so much. But Clary would not be deterred.

"Isabelle, you're amazing," she said. "You've had my back since the day I got here. You're a brilliant fighter, and if your mother really can't see how smart and committed you are, then she's as blind as a mole."

A tiny smile flickered across Isabelle's face. Then she pulled Clary into a hug. "Thank you. I really need to hear that."

Clary disentangled herself and pulled Isabelle into the hallway. "Come on. I know what else you need, right now."

A moment later, Clary pressed a swords into Isabelle's hand and walked into the training area, where she took up position.

Isabelle grinned at her. "You know me so well."

* * * * *

"You keep dropping your shoulder," Isabelle said and lunged at her.

Clary managed to deflect the blade, but it was a close call. Sweat clung to her skin and her muscles ached. Pivoting on her right foot, she pulled her sword into a low arc, but Isabelle parried easily, forced Clary's blade to the side and struck her sword hand with the flat of the blade. Clary's weapon clattered to the floor, and she retreated, panting, a hand pressed to her aching side.

"What's going on with you, today?" Isabelle asked, and Clary noted that her friend was far from out of breath. It didn't seem fair. "You've been distracted since we started."

Clary shook her head and leaned against the mirrored wall behind her. "It's nothing," she said.

Isabelle put her hands on her hips. "Ah, I believe I've heard that before. No, wait. I've _said_ it before. Last week. And you didn't believe a word of it."

She pinned Clary with a knowing look, and waited for her to deny it.

Clary could not meet her gaze. "I'm just tired," she said, evasively. "I don't think I've slept the whole night through this entire week." Abruptly, she straightened. "I think I'll just take a nap before we look into those vampire attacks tonight."

Isabelle looked sceptical, but didn't press further. "All right, but I'm here if you need to talk."

Clary nodded in silent thanks and headed towards her room.

Half an hour later, Isabelle knocked at her door.

"I thought you wanted to take a nap?" she said without preamble as she strode in.

Clary was sitting cross-legged on the foot of her bed and shot her a quizzical look. "And the reason you would wake me up?"

Isabelle shrugged. "Didn't really think you were sleeping." She sat down next to Clary, and her gaze fell onto the broken necklace in her hand.

"What's this?"

Clary rubbed her thumb across the pendant. What, at first glance, appeared to be an intricate floral pattern, reveal itself to be a stylized set of wings poised in flight. The gold and silver filigree was mirrored in the interlinking chain of the necklace, the broken ends of which dangled beneath Clary's palm.

"It was my mother's," she answered softly.

Isabelle sucked in a breath. "Oh Clary, I forgot. Today is…"

"It's been a year since she died," Carrie said as Isabelle's hand came to rest on her knee. Her eyes burned with impending tears, but she blinked them away. "I don't even remember how the chain got broken. I think it's one of the memories Magnus took from me. I just remember her wearing it every day, until, one day, she just... didn't."

Isabelle let the broken ends trail through her fingers. "You don't know why she never had it mended either?" she asked quietly.

Clary shook her head. In spite of her efforts, a tear fell down her cheek.

"You miss her." Isabelle said gently and pulled her into a hug.

Clary nodded mutely and wiped the tears away. It took her a moment to regain her voice. "I do. Most of the time, we're so busy running from one crisis to the next that I can forget about it, but the last two days have been really hard. I'm starting to forget things about her. The sound of her voice. The way she'd look at me when it was just us on Sunday mornings talking about art and school and me teasing her about Luke."

She closed her fingers protectively around the pendant. "It feels as if my memories of her are slipping away from me. A little more every day."

Isabelle twisted her fingers in the hem of her shirt. "I'm so sorry, Clary. I wish there was something I could do to help."

Clary swallowed hard and gave her a watery smile. "Being here _is_ helping," she said. "I told Simon that I wanted to be alone today, but to be honest, that turned out to be a really bad idea."

"You want me to call him?" Isabelle asked. "If you want him to come over, I'll clear it with Alec."

Clary nodded, relieved. "I'd like that." Standing up, she squeezed Isabelle's hand gratefully. "Thank you."

Isabelle shrugged self-consciously and smiled at her. "That's what friends are for."

* * * * *

Clary snapped her shoulders back in order to avoid Isabelle's punch. Then she grabbed her friend's arm and propelled her forward, hoping to throw her off balance. But Isabelle was not so easily foiled. She caught herself, her feet moving fast, spun and brought her elbow crashing towards Clary's face. Clary ducked and brought her knee up, straight into Isabelle's back. Or at least, where Isabelle's back should have been, had her friends not already danced out of reach, her movements light and quicker than the eye could see.

Isabelle grinned at her. "Is that all you've got?" she challenged.

Grinding her teeth in frustration, Clary came at her with a quick series of kicks and punches. Isabelle deflected all of them, until Clary was able to sidestep, catching Isabelle's shoulder with a jab Jace had taught her only a week ago. Isabelle hissed in surprise and retreated.

She pressed a hand to her shoulder blade and rotated the joint. "Not bad," she acknowledged before she attacked again.

As time wore on, Clary felt her muscles ache with the strain of battle. Her breath became laboured, and it became increasingly more difficult to block Isabelle's blows while scoring any of her own.

When Isabelle's mother interrupted them, she felt almost relieved to be able to catch her breath.

"Hello, you two. Isabelle, I want you to accompany Alec to the Council meeting this evening."

Isabelle tensed. "I'm sorry, but I can't," she said, clearly uncomfortable. "I've already made plans."

Maryse Lightwood looked at her daughter disapprovingly. "That Downworlder again?"

As Clary looked awkwardly from one to the other, Isabelle straightened. "He has a name," she said, her voice loaded with both exasperation and defiance.

But Maryse paid it no heed. "Regardless, attending the Council meeting takes priority over a date."

"It's not a date," Isabelle immediately interjected, but her mother simply talked over her.

“We talked about this. You wanted to take on more responsibility, and this is how you do it. Not by indulging distractions, but by focusing on what's important. Your _boyfriend_ (the word dripped with barely concealed disdain) can wait. Be sensible."

Maryse turned away, but as she moved back into the church, both girls stopped her.

"No," Isabelle said flatly, her posture rigid. At the same time, Clary stepped forward, her desire to defend her friend overruling her apprehension. "Don't talk to her that way."

Maryse froze, then turned and, ignoring her daughter, fixed Clary with a hard look. "Excuse me?"

Clary cringed, but swallowed her embarrassment. She couldn't retreat now. The only way to go was forward. "Why do you always think the worst of her? Do you honestly think Isabelle doesn't know how important those meetings are, or that she would blow them off without a good reason?"

Maryse flashed her a tight smile. "Clary, while it is recommendable that you would jump to my daughter's defence, I've known her a lot longer than you have…"

"Yeah, that's kind of the problem, mom." Isabelle interrupted her.

At her mother's quizzical look, Isabelle threw up her hands. "You don't see me," she said bitterly. "You have this images of me inside your head that does not match up to reality anymore, but no matter what I do, I can't make you look beyond that." She sighed. "I'm meeting Raphael tonight because he offered to help me with the rogue vampires who've been attacking Luke's clan. And, by the way, Alec asked me to handle that."

She did not add, “because _he_ trusts me,” but the words hung in the air, regardless.

To her credit, Maryse appeared discomfited. "Well, I didn't know that."

But Isabelle was not mollified. "You could've asked. But making assumptions is easier, I guess."

A hint of contrition appeared on Maryse's face. "Isabelle, I didn't mean…"

Shoulders squared and expression immutable, Isabelle interrupted her. Only Clary noticed how the restless twitching of her fingers betrayed her anxiety. "No, mom. We've had this conversation so many times, now. I'm tired of it." She swallowed nervously, and took a deep breath. "I'm not a child anymore, and I'm done trying to win your approval." Taking a step back, she turned aside. “Now, if you'll excuse us, Clary and I have to finish our training."

Without waiting for a reply, Isabelle attacked, and Clary was hard-pressed to defend herself. And even though they found their rhythm after a moment, Clary was all too aware of the tension in Isabelle's posture. Her movements had lost their fluent surety, and, sidestepping one of her punches, Clary risked a glance towards the archway. To her relief, the only thing she saw was Maryse's retreating back.

"Is she gone?" Isabelle asked in a low voice.

Clary nodded. "Are you all right?"

Isabelle looked conflicted. She shook out her arms and walked over to the balustrade that surrounded the courtyard. Clary followed her. "I'm not sure," she said, then shrugged. "I will be, I suppose."

Clary smiled encouragingly. "That was really brave of you." She placed a hand on Isabelle's arm. "And she'll come around, you'll see."

Isabelle smiled tentatively. "It felt kinda good," she admitted.

Clary gestured towards the courtyard. "Another round?"

"Absolutely."

* * * * *

Clary hadn't really planned to spend her birthday fighting vampires, but, being a Shadowhunter, she probably should have expected it.

She and Isabelle stood back to back in an alleyway surrounded by four Downworlders. As they'd been on the way to Maia's bar, neither of them had brought weapons, safe for Isabelle's whip, and when the rogue vampires Isabelle had been hunting had jumped out of the shadows, they had both been caught off guard.

Isabelle dropped into a fighting stance and address their leader. "Raphael would like a word with you," she said lightly, her tone belying the danger in which they were.

"And so would the Clave," Clary added, mirroring Isabelle's movements as they both tried to keep all of their adversaries in sight.

He shook his head, unimpressed. "Don't really care to talk to either." He said then lunged at Isabelle.

She kicked out and broke his kneecap, but by then the other vampires had joined in, and even as their leader howled in pain, Clary and Isabelle had their hands full fighting off his followers.

Clary flung a tall woman against a wall before she ducked a punch aimed at her temple. Isabelle's whip pulled a vampire off his feet, while Clary hammered her elbow into her attackers throat. They fought side-by-side, and, in the end, months of training (and in Isabelle's case, years) gave them the advantage. Standing next to each other, they watched as the vampires ran off, dragging their incapacitated leader between them.

"Shouldn't we go after them?" Clary panted as she pressed a hand to her shoulder nursing what would surely turn into a colourful bruise come morning.

Isabelle shook her head and, with a disgusted look, wiped vampire blood off her hands. "Magnus can use their blood to track them. And then we'll go after them in force."

She settled her whip around her wrists and looked at Clary. "You okay?"

Clary waved off her concern and used her stele to activate her healing rune. "I'm good."

"Well, then..." Isabelle said as they made their way back to the street, "...this is not how I planed to do this, but…" trailing off, she pulled a small, rectangular box out of her coat.

"What is it?" Clary asked.

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "Your birthday present, obviously." She grinned at Clary. "Open it."

Clary opened the box and inhaled sharply. The light from the nearby street lamp caught on the gold and silver filigree of her mother's pendant. "You had it repaired." Clary said, her voice tight.

Isabelle ducked her head, trying to gage Clary's reaction. She bit her lip. "Yeah, I might've snuck into your room to do it. Not something I'd normally do, but I wanted to surprise you."

As the silence grew between them, Isabelle's smile faltered. "Are you mad? Please, don't be mad. I swear I didn't touch or look at anything else and…"

Clary interrupted her by pulling her into a fierce hug. "It's perfect," she said quietly. "You're an amazing friend, Isabelle."

Pulling back, Isabelle gave her a mischievous look. "I know," she said smugly, and Clary laughed. She fastened her mother's pendant around her neck and looped her arm through Isabelle's.

They had a party to get to.

The End

 


End file.
